Sinning by Silence
by GraceBe
Summary: She had been waiting for this moment for 20 years and now she realized, it had been worth every second of it. Every word, every gesture they had exchanged had led them to this point in their lives.
1. His Majesty's Valet

**This is my first attempt to write a story for this fandom. I have to thank my beta Gemenied for doing my best to eliminate my mistakes and I have to thank Julian Fellowes for creating this show. I don't own the characters of Mrs Hughes, Mr Carson or Mrs Patmore and I promise to return them unharmed :-) **

**Sinning by silence **

**Chapter 1 **

** His Majesty's Valet **

In Carson's eyes Edward Lane was the perfect servant. In all the years Mr Lane had been working at Downton the butler had never seen him fail, neither in his profession nor in his behaviour. There was no servant who could be a called a real gentleman, but as far as Charles Carson was concerned Edward Lane was the man who came closest to that term. He was a rare mix of gentleness, manners, humour, and style that had made him irreplaceable among the staff and also upstairs. When he left his position a decade ago, it wasn't easy to find a replacement that didn't disappoint too much. Before Mr Bates had arrived in Downton there had been two valets that had tried and failed to follow Mr Lanes' large footsteps.

Especially Carson had been sorry to see Lane leaving Downton, something he could never picture himself doing. Carson hoped to die in Downton, just to haunt it ever after. But Lane was different. He was meant for bigger things. When the Prince of Wales, the King's eldest son and heir had personally requested Lane to work for him, there was no way to turn that offer down. And so Lane had left Downton in 1909 to work for the Prince who would become King Georg V. only one year later.

It had made his Lordship proud to hear the news of Mr Lane's career, but that was nothing compared to what Carson had felt. Ever since Carson had returned to Downton after his disastrous years on the stage Mr Lane had been his mentor and guardian. Though he wasn't much older than Carson at that time, Lane had taken Charles under his wing and trained him. A very rewarding relationship that developed into a friendship that was based on trust and love for the estate.

Of course, the men had stayed in touch after Lane's departure, but as time and life went by, the letters came less frequently than they used to come. But Carson knew that was what naturally happened when paths divided. He also couldn't claim to feel lonely.

Carson had realized that, if asked today, he would probably say that his friendship with Mr Lane had been replaced by his relationship with Mrs Hughes. She had become his confidant, his rock in busy and in easier times. He saw her as his equal and depended on her, even if her tongue became sharper by the day and even if she challenged him in ways Lane never had had.

So, it wasn't surprising that Carson was pleased but not as overwhelmed as he would have been years ago, to receive a letter from Lane, in which he wrote that he was retiring and on his way back to Middlesbrough, where his family lived, and would stop in Ripon. He planned a visit to Downton and hoped to be welcomed as an old friend.

"Well, Mrs Hughes," Carson said in a joyful manner as he told her about the visit, when they enjoyed a glass of sherry in his pantry. "It's been some time since Mr Lane has been here. I wonder what he'll say about the changes around here."

"What changes?" Mrs Hughes asked, a bit short tempered. "As far as I see it nothing has really changed... aside from a few faces and the purchase of a toaster for breakfast."

"So, you aren't happy to see him again?" he asked, surprised. "As far as I can remember, you've always got along with him."

She blushed a bit and cleared her throat, before she answered.

"Well... that's not what I meant. It'll be... nice to see him. I just can't say it's that... important to me. So many people have come and left here..." Her voice trailed off.

"But not everybody became a valet to the King of England," he reminded her.

"Well, I guess you have a point there."

She emptied her glass quicker than she usually did. He noticed and was about to ask her, if something was troubling her, but the way her eyes were glittering, darker, somehow dangerous, told him to leave her alone. He knew how to read her different moods by now and it certainly didn't keep him from snapping at her, but tonight was a little different. She was different and inside him the nagging fear for her health returned. Sometimes it scared him how ever present his worry for her wellbeing was. He would never forget those dark days when he (and she for that matter) didn't know whether she was ill or not. It had almost killed him to realize that he could lose her to an unfair, horribly cruel disease called cancer.

"I think I'll call it a night, Mr Carson," Mrs Hughes rose and didn't even wait for his response. "Excuse me, but it was a long day."

"It truly was," he agreed, somehow saddened that she left him this early. The time he spent with her in the evening was his favourite part of the day. It was the time to ponder and to relax with someone who understood him, even when she disagreed with him.

"Sleep well," he said, but she couldn't hear that any more.

Back in her own room, Elsie locked herself in and rested her forehead against the door. This was the last thing she needed. Edward Lane back in Downton. Mr Carson may have believed his old friend just wanted to drop in and say hello, but Elsie knew better. She had a horrible hunch where this visit was leading, but she couldn't tell Mr Carson that. He wouldn't understand and rightly so, because there was nothing to understand. She couldn't even explain it to herself and over the years she had quite successfully repressed the wish to explore her own emotions when it came to both men.

When she had started working at Downton as head housemaid, Elsie had noticed that Mr Carson had worshipped the ground Mr Lane was walking on. Although being at Downton for quite a long time himself Carson looked up to Lane and still seemed eager to learn from him. Lane had been his role model and although there was nothing wrong with that, Elsie had never quite understood it. Maybe because she'd never seen Lane that way. Elsie had never worshipped anyone in her life, she had never looked for a role model or someone else to look up to. She was raised to rely on herself and she thought that was a good way to live.

Truth was she had always respected Mr Lane, had liked him... and she felt incredibly attracted to him. To her he was a man of flesh and blood and when they had met almost 20 years ago, she had realized for the first time in her life that love and desire were two different kind[s] of emotions that didn't necessarily mix.

Elsie wasn't a romantic person, she was practical and honest, and so it worried her deeply that by the time she succeeded the housekeeper of Downton she had fallen in love with Charles Carson, while she had found herself physically drawn to the man who was his best friend. She had never expected to love one man with all her heart while she felt physically attracted to another. It still seemed not very ladylike and even though she would never claim to be one, it made her feel guilty, especially because Mr Lane had returned her feelings and every time when they had been alone Lane had made sure she had noticed that he wished to be more to her than just a fellow co-worker.

And one evening, one lonely summer evening, when the other servants had gone out to a fair, it had happened. They were again alone (not by accident) and it just happened and there was no way to way to make it sound less condemnable or whorish. She hadn't pushed him away or pretended not to want it. She had been no better than Ethel or other maids who had fallen from grace, she had just chosen a better man to commit her sin. And a good man he was indeed. He was a kind and tender lover with whom she had shared her most sensual and mortifying memories.

Not that a busy household like Downton allowed them to be together on a regular basis. Their secret meetings were rare, bold, and passionate occasions that allowed them to relieve their need to share something dark and repressed with each other. Sometimes she felt guilty, because it was obvious how incredibly oblivious Mr Carson was to their affair. He had never known, had never suspected them, because it had never occurred to him that the people closest to him could commit such sins right underneath his observing nose. She was also convinced that he didn't even see her as a woman, a real woman with needs, desires, and wishes that went beyond serving and bowing.

There were days when he complained about the lack of (her) standards when she wanted to throw the truth right into his face, but every time she considered doing so, she found herself unable to phrase the words.

Of course, everything between them had ended when Lane left the estate to work for the Prince of Wales. She had never questioned him or his decision to move on from his current post. Even the lives of servants changed and when the two of them had parted, they had done so without any hard feelings. He had never written her a letter nor had she written him. If anyone had noticed they had kept contact, it could have roused unwanted questions.

Yet there had come a time in the last year when she had been ready to break that silent vow of understanding between them. Last year she had written to him. At night in her sitting room when she had faced the fear of dying and had had no one but Mrs Patmore to turn to, she had remembered him and his tenderness. As much of a friend as the cook had become, Mrs Patmore couldn't give her the kind of assurance and attention she had needed to survive the time until she knew if she was granted to live a few more years.

So she had lied to Mr Carson and the others who believed she had been visiting her sister while she had spent the weekend with Mr Lane in London – reviving their former physical relationship. If she had to die, she wanted to face it with the knowledge of having lived to the fullest. Looking back she had to admit it had been a pathetic, desperate move to run to him, to use him to rebuilt her self esteem, but the one night she had spent in his arms had given her the strength to go on while waiting for the test results.

And now she wasn't dead and Edward would return to Downton. The question was how she would feel while sitting with both men at the same table after so many years of separation.

**~~tbc~~**


	2. A decent proposal

******First of all I want to thank each and every one who read, alerted, took their time to write a review. I appreciate it! I also have to thank my beta for her fantastic work! And now meet Mr Lane... **

**Chapter 2 – A decent proposal**

What a trinity, Elsie thought when she watched Mr Lane, Mr Carson and Mr Bates who seemed deeply lost in their conversation.

They're probably talking about his Lordship's latest trousers, she mused silently and did her best to avoid the sight of Mr Lane[;] but she didn't have to worry. With his salt and pepper hair and his distinguished appearance he still was an incredible handsome man who received attention from every female downstairs. Even Ivy and Daisy were stealing secret glances at him and deep down, Elsie felt a spark of pride swelling in her. Pride that was rooted in the same area deep down where her guilt over their secret relationship was born. She didn't know how many women Lane had known during the past decade, but having him so close by, forced her to remember the time they had spent together, and it caused a familiar excited tingling all over her spine.

It was a different sensation from the one she felt for Mr Carson. Charles Carson was the man who could poke her fire with one stupid, posh remark. He could drive her mad with fury and desire with one of his disapproving looks. It was the kind of anger she could never feel for Mr Lane, because nothing he did could hurt her that much.

They were so different and yet so similar.

She heard Mr Carson laugh about something and smiled. He was so happy to have his friend back. Someone he understood and who was his age. Someone he didn't have to train or scold at least once a day. Was she the one who had taken Edward Lane away from him? Did he leave Downton because of her? Probably, and she hated herself for it.

"I'm sorry, Mr Carson," Alfred, the footman, had come downstairs. "His Lordship needs to talk to you. It sounded urgent."

"I see," Carson said and rose from his chair. "Please, excuse me. I'll be back soon."

Carson left and as time passed, the servants' hall emptied. Yet, Elsie stayed, though she feared it was a mistake.

As Mr Bates and Anna left to get back to their cottage, Mrs Patmore, Elsie and Lane were left alone. Mr Carson hadn't returned yet and when Mrs Patmore started yawning, Elsie said. "My, my... must be something big happening upstairs, otherwise Mr Carson would have returned by now."

"Never mind," Mr Lane said in his gentle manner. "I can get in touch with him again tomorrow. I'll be leaving as well."

"I bid you good night then," Mrs Patmore said and rose. "And don't forget to say good bye, before you leave, Mr. Lane. It was good to see you again."

"It was my pleasure, Mrs Patmore. Good night."

"I'll walk you to the door," Elsie said loud enough so that Mrs Patmore could hear it on her way out. The last thing she needed, aside from Mr Carson becoming suspicious about them, was Mrs Patmore getting suspicious.

"Alone, at last," Edward whispered with a smile after Mrs Patmore had switched off the lights in the kitchen.

She had feared and anticipated the moment when she would have him to herself for the first time in over a year and apparently he felt the same. He circled the large table and gallantly took her hand when she rose from her chair.

"My, my...," she said with a smile, "You've made quite an impression tonight. We don't have the valet of the King here in Downton very often."

He chuckled lowly. "Former valet and the only one I hope to impress is you," he admitted. "I've missed you, Elsie."

She looked at him with unmistakable amusement in her eyes. "I doubt you've had a lot of time to miss anyone."

"Oh I had time enough and you were worth it. Every second it it," he answered suavely and placed her hand on his arm. "I'm glad you're all right. I couldn't have borne it if you had been ill."

"I wish you wouldn't say that," she felt blood rushing into her cheeks, but she squeezed his arm nevertheless.

"Since when are you avoiding the truth?" he asked in return. They slowly went down the hallway towards the back door.

"I'm not avoiding it. I'm just trying to remember that things have changed."

"Did they change? Sometimes I wonder...[,]" he said pensively. "How can you stand it, Elsie? Still being here? Working side by side with him?"

"With Mr Carson?" she asked, but it was a rhetorical question. She knew perfectly well that he was talking about the tall, strong butler. The man who had owned her heart for such a long time now, which hadn't kept her from becoming close to his best friend.

"Who else?"

"I guess I got used to it...," she answered. She had learnt to live with Carson and her unrequited love for him a long time ago. It would be a part of her until she drew her last breath.

He stopped and turned to her him. "Don't lie to me... you can lie to everyone, including yourself, but not to me."

"I'm not lying," Elsie sighed. "But that's the way it is."

He scoffed, but his eyes were soft. "So, that means nothing has changed... you're still not tired of waiting for him?"

"I'm not waiting for anyone or anything," she argued with a shrug. "I'm just living my life. And it's a good life. I don't have any regrets."

"I hope that statement involves me as well." He drew a deep breath, before he spoke again. "Listen, I didn't come back to check up on this place. To be honest, I don't even miss it and I won't miss Buckingham Palace or any other palace now that I'm retired... I enjoyed my work, but this part of my life is over and I want to make some changes..."

Elsie had a feeling where this was leading and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear it. Yet there was this tingle in her stomach, the silly feeling of temptation that always came along when he was close to her and so she encouraged him to continue, "What kind of changes?"

"Why don't you come with me?" he asked and took her hand in his. He ran his hand over her ring finger and said, "Marry me. Become my wife. You may not love me the way I love you... but we understand each other. We can have a better life together. I've saved some money... my father left me his house when he died. I can offer you the life you deserve."

To say she was shell shocked by his proposal was a major understatement. She had expected him to ask her to meet him in the village... to spend the night with him... but certainly not a proposal of marriage.

He smiled when he saw the shock written all over her face and when she opened her mouth to speak, he just placed a finger on her lips and said, "Don't answer me now. Take your time... but, please, think about it. We've known each other for so long now why shouldn't we spend the rest of our lives together?"

To underline the seriousness of his proposal he leaned in and kissed her. It was a tender, almost shy kiss that she couldn't help but to return which led him to deepen the kiss and before she knew it, his arms had wrapped around her and she melted into his embrace.

"Good night, Elsie. I'll talk to you soon," he said huskily when they parted and vanished through the back door. And then she stood there in the loneliness of the hallway and didn't know what to think or do. Her body was trembling and she touched her lips with shaking fingers. She had never considered marrying him, not even when they were... together... not when she had gone to London to meet him last year. He wasn't the man to marry, just as she wasn't the woman to be married. They had this strange relationship that was based on physical needs and loneliness, but not on love. At least that was what she had thought. But he had just admitted he loved her... she felt dizzy and confused. Her brain simply refused to process what just had happened...

Pull yourself together, she scolded herself and grabbed her keys to lock the back door. It was time to go call it a night, though she doubted she would find any sleep. Not after this.

Then she heard them. Those slow, yet characteristically heavy steps she would recognize anywhere and which followed her in her dreams.

She had prayed it wouldn't happen, had begged to God and the saints he would never have to learn about this, but apparently God and the saints hadn't been listening to her. Or they had decided that she had it coming and should finally face her sins for that they were.

She pulled the heavy key out of the lock and turned. Carson stood there next to the door of his pantry and she figured he had probably been in there after he had returned from upstairs. It would be an illusion to think he hadn't heard anything. The expression on his face spoke volumes, but it was mostly the pain she read in his eyes that made her stomach turn and twist with fear.

"Mr Carson...," she started and made a step forward, but he withdrew and she stopped breathing for a moment. He was pulling away, as if she was having an infectious disease and that broke her heart. She had always known she would never have him, but now she was losing the small part she had felt blessed to call her own. His friendship.

"Please..."

"Don't," was all he said, his hand raised, as if he wanted to make sure she stayed away from him. "Just don't."

Then he turned on his heels and she closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to watch him as he walked away from her.

**~~tbc~~**


	3. A heart cracked open

**First of all I want to thank everybody who reads, alerts, and comments on this story! Your support has been amazing and I'm simply overwhelmed by it! **

**Second, I wish I could have posted this earlier, but I sent the wrong file to my beta and so... well... I'm a bit late... **

**And third but not least, a big hug goes to Gemenied. *See you soon, Honey!* **

**Chapter 3 – A heart cracked open**

In the early afternoon of the next day Carson left the house and went down to the village.

He knew Edward Lane was staying at the Grantham Arms and there he would seek him out. He needed to face him alone. Man to man, eye to eye. Not that there was anything left to explain. Mr Lane and Mrs Hughes hadn't left much to his imagination. Carson had heard and seen enough to last for a lifetime. There was no way to misinterpret what had happened in the hallway, but he craved to unleash some of the anger that had been boiling inside him ever since.

He couldn't talk to her. He hadn't talked to her all day and he didn't know if he could ever be near her again. He could barely look at her without evoking fantasies of her and Mr Edward Lane in a passionate embrace that caused him to squirm with fury.

The awful knowledge, that the two people he thought most of and considered his friends had betrayed him for years, caused him to question everything he believed in. He hadn't trusted his ears when he overheard Lane's proposal and the underlying implication that they shared a much more colourful history than Carson knew about.

So he had sneaked out of his pantry and had watched them while they both were completely oblivious to his presence and his chest ached when he thought about it. They seemed so close, so familiar – intimate - with each other. Why had he never noticed this closeness before? In the all years the three had worked together he had never observed that Lane had been looking at her the way he had had last night. It had driven him mad to watch Lane approaching, touching her, as if it was his God given right to do so. As if she were... well, what she apparently was... his lover, his mistress... It had become obvious when they kissed, that she had shared her bed with him before and more than once.

He still felt sick when he thought about it. How could she? In his eyes she had always been a woman of virtue and standards. How could she get it on with a man without being married to him? How could she risk her reputation for an affair? Did he know her at all? Maybe he never had known her. Maybe he had seen something in her that she never had been or never wanted to be.

There had been times when he had been under the impression that she was aware of this strange, unspoken thing that he felt for her. Some of her smiles, secret glances or remarks had convinced him that she might feel the same for him, but the world they lived in didn't allow them to overstep certain boundaries – but that was his world, not hers. Obviously nothing had kept her from crossing the line with the man, Carson had considered his best friend.

Last night the two of them had looked so close, but the longer he thought about it, the more he realized that in his eyes, they didn't match very well together and if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes he would never have believed it. It was wrong, looked wrong, felt wrong.

It had happened though. He had seen them kissing and for the rest of the night he had been haunted by fantasies of their entangled limbs and repressed moans of pleasure right there in the room next to his. He shuddered and felt his breath running out. He realized he was walking too fast and so he stopped. He was almost there. Almost there at the pub to confront Lane.

The words he had to say to him already left a bitter taste in his mouth and there were stitches that tormented his heart. Yes, his pain about their betrayal was physically noticeable and he didn't know if it would fade again.

Carson found Lane in front of the pub where the famous valet was talking to Doctor Clarkson. When Carson arrived, the doctor excused himself with a tip at his hat and headed towards Isobel Crawley's house.

"Charles," Lane greeted him with a smile, but as soon as he took a closer look at the butler, he tensed and his friendly face transformed into a sad grimace.

"I guess we can return to Mr Carson and Mr Lane, don't you think so?"

"So, she told you," he mumbled more to himself than to Carson.

"Do you care to join me for a walk?" Carson asked, more stiffly than ever. Lane nodded in response and followed the other man. Whatever had to be said between them shouldn't be overheard by anyone else.

"I have to admit I am surprised," Lane said as he walked next to Carson. "I never thought she would tell you."

"She didn't," Carson informed sharply. "After I saw you last night there was no need for further explanations."

"I see. Then I can only apologize for the circumstances."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

"I would say that's none of your concern."

Carson stopped, surprised by the direct attack, and Lane turned to face him, looking almost feisty, "I've been gone for over a decade now. You've had your chance to make up your mind about her," he said bitterly. "I've given you time enough to make it right, but you're so obsessed with your dignity and your proper behaviour that you miss the most beautiful things around you. You could have had her."

Carson was aghast by the implication. "Like you did? Sneaking like a thief through the night?"

"That was your choice to make."

Carson felt his pulse quicken and he was ready to unleash his jealous fury on the man in front of him. "How dare you? Couldn't you treat her better? Couldn't you marry her instead of..." He searched for the right word that wouldn't disgrace her even more, but he was so sick of the situation that he couldn't find a suitable phrase. The pressure in his chest started to choke him.

"To make an honest woman of her?" Lane scoffed, but it sounded tired and helpless. "Do you think that's not what I've always wanted? But in all those rare, beautiful nights I've always been nothing but a substitute. I've never really had her. She never belonged to me and she probably never will, even if she'll marry me. All those years I had to scratch and claw for every inch of her hoping she would... what ever..." his voice trailed off and for a moment Lane just stared into the bright sunny sky. When he continued his speech, his voice sounded much calmer again, "She sought me out when she thought she was ill, but not even then she wanted to stay with me... and I almost begged her to give me the chance to take care of her, but all she could think about the next morning was coming back here."

Charles didn't want to listen to any of this, but, of course, he did listen and it drove him over the edge. It was too much to bear after the way he had suffered when he thought she was dying.

Elsie had told Lane about her cancer scare and she even went to... see him while she fought tooth and nail to keep her health problems away from him. She rather entrusted herself to a man she hadn't seen in a decade, who was a former lover, than to the one man who she spent every day with... who had prayed and begged to God to keep her healthy...

Elsie clutched her keys in her hands until her fingers hurt as she stormed out of the kitchen. Her nerves were all frazzled and she knew she was close to kill somebody, if she didn't find a way to calm herself down. So far her day had been pure hell. She hadn't slept a wink, she couldn't swallow a bite, and every time her eyes had fallen on Mr Carson, he had turned his back on her.

She entered her office and slammed the door behind her, but Mrs Patmore stopped the door with her outstretched arm.

"What is wrong with you?" she asked angrily, as she closed the door. "I know Ivy' s a silly girl, but tearing her head off because of a burned dish towel is usually my job, not yours!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs Patmore," Elsie said gruffly. "She just drives me mad at times."

"Are you sure, it's Ivy who drives you mad?" Mrs Patmore asked briskly. "Or is it him again? He was quite snappy the whole day. What is it this time?"

"It's not Mr Carson," Elsie lied and felt how she blushed. It was hard to keep anything from the cook who despite being locked in the kitchen all day, always seemed to know everything that was going on in the whole house.

"Of course, it's him. It's always him, isn't it?"

Elsie preferred not to comment that, but she didn't have to answer anyway. Someone knocked at her door and barged in, before she called them in. It was Mr Bates and he looked rather pale.

"Excuse me, Mrs Hughes. We just had a telephone call from Dr Clarkson. It's Mr Carson. He's in hospital. He's had a heart attack."

**~~tbc~~**

* * *

***And maybe this is the moment I should run and hide, right?* **


	4. That I have sinned exceedingly

**I'm so sorry for the delay, guys, but I was on vacation - and took my beta with me. So posting this took a little while longer. I hope you'll have fun with this chapter. I'm sure, you won't suspect what is going to happen, but let me assure you of one thing. I haven't lost it - yet ;-) **

**Chapter 4**

**T****hat I have sinned exceedingly... Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa**

The clock on the wall in the sitting room stroke midnight by the time Elsie had finished telling her story to Mrs Patmore. After the news of Mr Carson's collapse Elsie's exhausting attempt to keep up the demeanour of the professional housekeeper had fallen to pieces. When she had heard that Mr Carson had had his heart attack while being with Mr Lane she had known this was her fault. She had created this mess and she deeply blamed herself for his bad condition. She should have talked to him, should have forced him to listen to her, but the whole day she had allowed him to avoid her and the whole subject. He had been terribly upset with her and the pained expression in his eyes the night before had broken her heart. So she had done nothing, afraid he could call her a whore, now that he knew what she had done.

It was her fault he was ill, because she had been sneaking around with his best friend right under his nose. She wasn't his wife or his sweetheart, she didn't owe him anything, but if she was honest with herself she knew that she was probably the only person in this household (Lady Mary aside) who could really hurt him with her behaviour. And she had hurt him badly.

In the evening Dr Clarkson had called and delivered the reassuring news that Mr Carson hadn't suffered a real heart attack, but a minor seizure. A condition that demanded one night in hospital under surveillance and some additional rest home at Downton. He wasn't in grave danger and Elsie felt tremendously relieved by that, but her guilt didn't subside that easily.

For the time being Mrs Patmore had left her alone to cope with her misery, but after dinner the cook practically forced the truth out of her friend. And what a truth it was!

Elsie was sure Mrs Patmore hadn't quite known what she was getting herself into by demanding an explanation and she was right. Beryl Patmore was beyond shocked by what she was hearing.

The cook who had been listening with growing disbelief to Mrs Hughes' tale had completely forgotten about her tea and just stared at the housekeeper, speechless for once. One could really work with people for a lifetime without really knowing them.

"Well...," she was searching for the right words. "I've never thought that anything happening in this house could shock me any more..." She emptied her cup and drew a deep breath. "But that's quite a mess."

"I know," Elsie agreed harshly while she paced the room. "Tell me something I'm not aware of!"

"But how...?" Mrs Patmore shook her head. "How did you do it?"

Elsie stopped dead and blushed. "I beg your pardon!"

"I mean, how did you keep it a secret all these years?" she clarified just as embarrassed as Elsie looked. "I've never noticed anything...no one ever noticed anything."

Elsie shrugged and continued her agitated moving across the small room. "Sheer damn luck, I suppose. And it's not that we've been all over each over every day."

"So, will you do it?"

"Do what?"

Mrs Patmore rolled her eyes and clarified, "Will you marry Mr Lane?"

Elsie stopped again. She hadn't even thought about it, because she had been too occupied with herself and Mr Carson.

"I don't know," she answered, hesitantly. "I don't know anything."

Mrs Patmore gave her a sympathetic look. "I know it's not easy, but the way things are now... with you and Mr Carson. Are you sure you can go on like this? Working side by side knowing that he knows..." Her expression was full of obvious meaning.

"In other words, you think I will have to leave anyway," Elsie concluded and smiled bitterly. "So why not marry Mr Lane and do right one thing at least?"

"I can't tell you what to do, but you have to make up your mind." Mrs Patmore lowered her head, so that she could avoid Elsie's gaze as she continued. "Mr Carson's a good man and he loves you, if I may dare say so. I'm not sure he can stand it."

"He doesn't love me. I'm just the only one he's got!" Elsie barked harshly, because that was how it had to be. Anything else would be too complicated... too painful...

"That's what you believe?"

"How am I supposed to know what he feels?" Elsie asked, even angrier. She was so angry with everyone and everything around her. Angry with Mr Carson, with Mrs Patmore, and with herself.

"Well, he isn't exactly Lord Byron, but every man who sings for a woman after he's heard she's not gravely ill, must be in love with her. At least in my book he is."

**E&CE&CE&C&EC&E**

The next day Carson returned to Downton. Dr Clarkson had brought him back in an ambulance, but Elsie successfully managed to avoid his return. She just couldn't face him. She was too afraid another moment between them could end in a fight that would worsen his condition. She was so glad that he was home again, she didn't want to spoil his return by forcing herself upon him.

In the late afternoon she met Dr Clarkson in the servants' hall, where he was talking to Ivy and handing over a small bottle of crème to apply on her burned arm.

"Dr Clarkson," Elsie greeted him with a weak smile. "You're still here."

"Mrs Hughes. I'm already on my way back. You'll be happy to hear that Mr Carson is much better."

"That's good news," Elsie said and added. "So, how bad was it really?"

"Not too bad. He'll be up and about again in two or three days," the doctor answered. "It wasn't as bad as it looked at first. And thanks to Mr Lane who brought him to the hospital immediately, there won't be any lasting damage. Actually, I was searching for you earlier, but I couldn't get a hold of you."

"I was busy upstairs," Elsie lied.

"Never mind. I've given the medicine Mr Carson is supposed to take to Mrs Patmore. Just make sure he takes it three times a day for the next week."

"I'll see to it," Elsie said gratefully.

Doctor Clarkson laughed. "Mrs Patmore told me the same. She's with him upstairs now." He made a small bow. "Have a good day and call me when you need me."

"I will. Good bye, Doctor."

Elsie watched the Doctor leave and all of the sudden she felt very unhappy. She had been so glad to hear Mr Carson was better and home again, but there had been a time when she was the one who took care of him when he was ill. And now it was Mrs Patmore who was up there with him in his room, making sure he was comfortable and swallowing the medicine that he hated so much. It bothered her to know that another woman was taking her place, stood where she used to stand. The prospect of other women in his life had never really disturbed her. She was sure Mr Carson had had his share of woman over the years. During the season he always had plenty of opportunity to find women to satisfy the needs that couldn't be met in Downton; and somehow it had never really bothered her, because he spent the rest of his year, his time, at her side.

They lived the odds and the ends. Together. Every day.

She was part of his normal life and even though she ached for a touch or a loving word from him, she could live with him without being loved by him as she wanted to. And now that was over. She didn't even have that left. She had lost him. She had lost all the odds and ends.

Now Mrs Patmore was there for him. And Elsie was jealous, so incredibly jealous, even though it was stupid.

Just as she wanted to return to her sitting room, she heard something quite unfamiliar. So she stopped and looked around. It was the cook entering the servants' hall with a smile on her face and a stupid song on her lips.

**_I love you truly, truly dear,  
Life with its sorrow, life with its tear  
Fades into dreams when I feel you are near  
For I love you truly, truly dear.*_**

The realization hit her like a train and suddenly her chest ached and her stomach transformed into a stone.

"_He's good man..."_ How many times had Mrs Patmore told her that over the last few years? Not often enough it seemed, because she hadn't understood the true meaning of it. She had been as blind and oblivious to Mrs Patmore's feelings for Mr Carson as Mr Carson had been to her affair with Mr Lane.

But now she saw it, she felt it, and it was unbearable.

Mrs Patmore was in love with Mr Carson and now that Elsie had turned out to be unworthy of him, the cook finally saw her chance to get close to him. And who was Elsie to judge her for that? Who was she to object or interfere? Her sins didn't allow her to claim what she didn't deserve.

**_~~tbc~~_**

**_*For those who are interested: the song Mrs Patmore sings is called "I love you truly" and was originally sung by Elsie Baker in 1912. You can find it on a certain video platform on the internet ;-)_**


	5. Pygmalion and the brave Scot

**Thanks again for the lovely reviews and comments! I would also like to thank a certain lady for her contant support and her telling me that the structure of my sentences sometimes really sucks ;-) **

**I hope you'll enjoy the next chapter. **

**Chapter 5**

**Pygmalion and the brave Scot**

Carson spent the day in bed, staring at the ceiling. There was a book lying in his lap, one he had wanted to read for ages, but now that he had the time, he couldn't make any sense of it. Of course, _she_ had recommended it to him and that's why he had chosen it, even though it didn't do him any good right now. It reminded him of her and as a result his mind was too occupied to concentrate on reading.

He had often heard and read about the cliché of a heart being broken to pieces, but he had never quite believed in it. Now he did, because during the time he had argued with Lane about Mrs Hughes it had certainly felt, as if the something in his chest had been bursting. But it hadn't killed him. Just when he thought he couldn't bear life any more, he hadn't been allowed to go. And now he was slowly healing. How else could it be that despite everything he knew about Mr Lane and Mrs Hughes he still didn't want her to leave Downton? Especially not with him? He didn't want them to live happily ever after with one another, because deep in his heart he knew, they weren't meant to be together.

It hurt, still hurt badly that she had given herself to another man – repeatedly and without even considering marriage, but that didn't change his feelings, his longing for her. He wasn't sure he would find the strength and the courage to fight for her, but he certainly wouldn't let her run off with Lane either. Not as long as he walked the earth. In a way she really was the death of him.

A knock on his door startled him and the book fell off his lap and onto the floor. He looked down on the cover of the volume and sighed.

"Pygmalion"

**C&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&E**

Edward Lane stood outside and watched the sunset while he waited for Elsie. The last two days had been an emotional roller coaster for him and he longed for an end to all of this. He had slipped a secret note into her room where he knew she would find it. It was a system they had created years ago when they set up one of their rare dates and he was sure it still worked, since she knew he was in the house.

He had known it was stupid to return to Downton to propose to her, but he had owed it to himself to finish it with dignity. This incredibly enjoyable absurdity of a relationship with her had to come to an end one way or the other. He just wished it hadn't almost killed a man he had called his friend for a very long time.

Edward had always known he was nothing but a substitute, a replacement for Charles Carson, the man she really loved. But those hours in her bed were all he could get, and years ago it had been enough, or at least that was what he had told himself every time she had achieved satisfaction in his arms. Today he knew it had never been enough and the time to admit the truth had come.

When he paid Mr Carson a visit at his bedside, he had told him, he was about to leave and he wouldn't come back. It was the best for all of them. Carson couldn't argue with that and they parted as two men who had agreed to disagree without hard feelings. He was relived Charles would completely recover from his heart attack, but their friendship was over. It didn't matter that he had saved the butler's life, he would have done so for every man in need. When Lane came back to do what had to be done, he had known it would cost him Carson's friendship, but of course, it had come worse.

To his shame he had to admit that he had known about Carson's repressed feelings for Mrs Hughes, just as he had known about her feelings for the tall butler, but he had never confronted his friend about them, because he had fallen for her himself and he had taken what she had been willing to give him, hoping she would feel the same for him one day.

How delusional and how destructive people could become when love was involved! He scoffed at the sky, trying to tell the Lord and his saints, he didn't care for their rules, but, of course, he knew how useless it was to fight against something so much grander and wiser. All knowing.

And there she came, his one, only love. With swift steps she stepped out of the big, old house, making sure nobody was following her.

"I'm glad you found my message," he said when she approached him.

"I certainly did," she said. "So you saw him?"

"I did... and we talked."

"But the two of you are not going back to normal, are you?"

"No, but there was never a chance that we would. It's impossible for two men to love the same woman and be friends, Elsie. We're doomed to be opponents."

She chose not to comment on that. Instead she pointed at the bench behind him. "Let's sit down for a moment," she suggested gently.

"Brings back memories," Edward said meaningfully.

"I know," Elsie agreed and sat down next to him.

"I've always liked this time of day... when the family is busy with themselves and we could go out here... That's probably what I missed most about Downton in London. The peace of the things one knows. It's all so familiar here."

She knew what he meant. "We certainly live in our own world here."

"And I came back and shook it all up." He made a face and sighed. "I knew mine was a lost case, but I didn't imagine I could cause so much damage. I'm sorry."

"He's going to be all right," Elsie tried to assure him, and maybe she even tried to convince herself of it.

"I knew I would lose his friendship by asking you to marry me, but I certainly didn't want to harm him. I should have known the big man is much more fragile when it comes to matters of his very own heart."

She inhaled deeply and turned her face away, "I wish you would stop saying such things," she said lowly.

"And why' s that? When did you become such a coward?" he asked and added a quote from Abraham Lincoln that he had been thinking about often recently. "To sin by silence when they should protest makes cowards of men... We should have talked this out years ago... but our fear to face our feelings and the consequences of them made cowards of all of us."

"I'm not a coward," Elsie defended herself. "Just more aware of certain things... I'm not sure I'll stay at Downton, but I know I can't marry you either. It wouldn't be right. It would hurt both of us."

He knew she was right, but he was like Charles when it came to the way how things had to be done. He was a fighter till the end, even if it meant to lose. And just like Charles Carson, he was a bad loser.

"So, that's how it ends?" he asked and looked up into the darkening evening sky. They had shared their first kiss at this table all those years ago. Just like tonight they had been alone and they had perfectly known what would happen.

"It started here, as far as I remember." Elsie gently touched his hand and smiled at him.

"You were quite bold back then..." he said with a witty grin. "Must be the brave Scot in you."

"I had two whiskeys before I followed you out here," she admitted with a husky laugh. "Maybe I was bold, but certainly not brave... I'm sorry."

"I know you are."

"So... friends?" she asked carefully.

"Have we ever been friends?"

Elsie smirked. "I'd like to think of you as someone special in my life."

He took her hand and placed a kiss on its back. "I'm glad I earned myself that place... but there's one last thing I have to ask of you."

**C&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&E**

Mrs Patmore waited for Elsie when she entered the house again, after her meeting with Mr Lane was over. She was leaning against the door frame of Elsie's sitting room, her arms crossed over her chest, a dish towel thrown over her shoulder.

"Mrs Patmore, what are you doing here?" Elsie asked and wondered why the cook looked as if she was on a warpath.

"I wanted to talk to you and so I went outside, but as far as I could see you were busy."

Elsie could imagine what the cook had witnessed and decided not to ignore her criticism.

"What is it you want?" the housekeeper asked in annoyance.

"That's my question to you. What is it you want? I've seen just seen you out there, examining Mr Lanes' tonsils."

The disapproval couldn't have been more audible and Elsie shot her a glare that could have killed a less steadfast person. But with Mrs Patmore, of course, it was like throwing a flower against a wall.

"Are you by any chance familiar with the term privacy?" Elsie snapped and passed her.

Mrs Patmore ignored her question and followed her inside her sitting room. "Does that mean you've decided to go with him?"

"No."

"So, you plan to continue to... well, whatever it is you do?"

Elsie shook her head. "No... I bid him goodbye. For good." Elsie answered while Mrs Patmore watched her with growing curiosity. "If that's how you say good bye I start wondering how you say hello."

Sick of Mrs Patmore's sarcasm, Elsie faced the cook and said, "I won't go anywhere. Not if I can help it." It sounded determined and cold and it was meant to be a warning. She wouldn't leave Downton and she wouldn't watch the cook of the house trying to replace her in Mr Carson's life. Elsie had made her decision and she would find a way to mend the fences between them.

"I see," Mrs Patmore said after some moments of silence. "Very well then, Mr Carson's asked for you. He wants to see you."

**C&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&E**

_It had been Mrs Patmore who had returned the book to him. Obviously, she had witnessed Lane leaving again and had peeked in to have a look at him._

"_Maybe you should read to divert yourself a bit," she had suggested and held the book at arm's length and squinted to read the title "Pygmalion," she mumbled. "Funny title. What is it about?"_

"_A fool," Carson answered meaningfully and reached out to get the volume back. "A brave lady and a fool."_

**~~tbc~~**


	6. The place where we belong

**I freely admit, this one is depressing, but hey... sometimes life sucks, right? A big hug to everyone who supports me in this - yes, Gemenied, you too! **

**Chapter 6**

**The place where we belong**

It was after 11 pm when Elsie knocked softly at Mr Carson's door. She carried a bundle of fresh sheets in her arms, but the laundry was no more than an alibi to make sure no one questioned why she was wandering the hallway at this time of night. Not that many of them would dare to do so anyway.

She waited until Carson called her in, and even with his permission she hesitated, before she entered his room. She felt as if she was walking on thin ice, but she realized it was time to face him, no matter what the outcome of this meeting would be. Time to prove she was not the coward Mr Lane had called her earlier.

"Mr Carson," she greeted him, but avoided looking at him.

"Good evening, Mrs Hughes."

She carefully placed the sheets on the dresser. Then she turned and stood at the end of his bed and faced him. He was still pale, but he didn't look too bad, she thought. She also noticed with slight relief that he looked at her without disgust or disapproval.

That was a start.

"How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

"Better. I think I'll be ready to return to my duties in a few days."

Her first instinct was to object, because she wanted him to get more rest, but for the first time ever, she sensed it wasn't her place to tell him how to handle his health. So she just said, "That's good to hear, though I think Mr Barrow won't be pleased to give up his newly acquired duties so easily."

"Mr Barrow is free to leave if my presence displeases him," Carson answered with great dignity and she smiled at his attitude.

"Mrs Patmore told me you wanted to see me. Is there something you wanted?"

Carson looked surprised, "Actually, it was Mrs Patmore who suggested your visit..."

Elsie blushed. So she had held her hopes up too high. She was only tolerated here, but not really wanted.

"But since, you're here," he continued jovially and pointed at the armchair next to his bed. "Why don't you have a seat? Tell me about your day. I heard Ivy has burned herself..."

**C&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&E**

Five days later, in the afternoon, Elsie sat in her office and was supposed to update Mrs Patmore's order list for an upcoming dinner party, but she was too absent-minded to concentrate on her task. As unbelievable as it was, everything had gone back to normal.

Much to Thomas' dismay Mr Carson had recovered well enough to return to his duties and had taken charge of the household again.

All was well. Again.

The dignified butler of Downton Abbey was back at his game and he treated Elsie the same way he always had. In the evenings he invited her for a cup of tea or sherry in his pantry to discuss the day and they would laugh, joke or disagree on whatever the current subject was. Mrs Patmore had stopped her little sarcastic remarks and behaved as if nothing had ever happened. Altogether, the atmosphere downstairs was pleasantly quiet and peaceful.

Which was unbearable for her to endure. While everyone around her was content with the situation, she was the one who couldn't handle it. In fact, she was going insane. It seemed that all the heartache, the anger, and the fear to lose everything she held dear, had been for nothing. Mr Lane and what he had been to her didn't seem to matter any more and Mrs Patmore had never again questioned Elsie's position in the household or her relationship with Mr Carson or Mr Lane. Sometimes Elsie even wondered, whether her own guilty conscious was the reason for her wondering about any possible feelings the cook might harbour for Mr Carson. Maybe she had understood it all wrong, because the two of them certainly behaved most naturally.

They all sat together at the same table, ate the same food and talked about the same old things, as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed.

Only that sometimes, when she looked at Mr Carson or Mrs Patmore, she thought that perhaps they hadn't changed, but she had. Her world had been turned upside down, had become a different place and she didn't know where she stood. It somehow felt as if she had lost her place in their little world.

She had thought that, now that Mr Lane was gone, she and Mr Carson could become closer, could take their time to rebuild their relationship. She had thought their time had finally, finally come, but she was wrong. So terribly wrong.

Mr Lane's proposal, her turning him down, her staying at Downton. Mr Carson had acknowledged none of it. She knew he hardly talked about his feelings. His exterior was an armour and instead of lowering his shields, after his heart attack, he had pulled them up again. Even if he did love her, he would never tell her. He would die as butler of Downton, a faithful servant, but not as a man of flesh and blood, her man.

He belonged to Downton, like a husband belonged to a wife. And she? Where did she belong? Maybe Downton wasn't her place after all. Maybe it never had been her place to begin with.

So it came to pass that in the morning while reading the paper she stumbled across an advertisement.

Another prominent aristocratic family from Sussex was searching for a new housekeeper. She had never really considered leaving Downton, but now that the offer practically jumped into her face, she was tempted.

A new start, a new life, no questions asked. Far away from Mr Carson, she could perhaps learn to forget him. It was something she had never thought of before, but it could turn out to be the perfect treatment for her bruised heart.

Out of sight, out of mind.

She could always claim to have left Downton, because she wanted a change. Her references were flawless, she was a hard worker and she wasn't someone to be challenged... and she wasn't afraid. At least she wasn't afraid of others or of life, just a little bit of herself at times.

After lunch she placed the neatly cut out piece of paper on her desk and looked at it.

It was an option, a chance, maybe a broad hint from heaven. Maybe, she thought, that's how the Lord wants me to pay for my sins...

**C&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&E**

The day ended as uneventful as it had started. In two weeks the family would leave Downton to spend the season in London and before they left, the house would turn into a swan that looked majestically from the outside, but had a lot of trouble moving its feet to stay on the surface.

Elsie knew it wasn't proper to apply for another job so close to the season and without confiding in anyone about it, but she gathered she could still supervise the preparations for their move, before she left. She wouldn't run like Miss O'Brien. She would leave with dignity.

As the other servants retired one by one, Elsie also left the servants' hall and quietly went to her sitting room where she found Mr Carson. He stood at her desk and had his eyes fixed on something that lay on the desk top. She bit her lips. The last time she had looked at the advertisement, someone had interrupted her and she had forgotten to put it back into her drawer. And now he was staring at it, because, naturally, he knew why she had cut it out.

"You consider leaving Downton?" he asked aghast, before she could explain herself.

She looked up to him and felt a little trapped. She hadn't expected him to confront her about it, after he had practically refused to talk to her about Edward Lane, but the situation was perhaps too obvious to ignore it, even for him. "It's just an option," she answered vaguely.

"Why?"

"Why?" she repeated in disbelief. "You of all people should know why."

He looked, as if she had slapped him. "I thought when you refused leaving with him... it meant you didn't want to leave at all. Did I misread you so badly?"

She felt how her cheeks started burning and cleared her throat. "No, you didn't... It's not that I want to leave. I'm just not sure I belong here any more..." The words lingered in the air and she felt her heart pumping wildly in her chest. Please, say something, she begged silently. Tell me to stay...

"I see." He sighed heavily and placed the small piece of paper back on her desk. "Will you do me a favour then?"

"Of course." She was a little breathless. Anything. For you always anything, she told him silently.

"Stay until the family and I are back from London... stay for the season and if you still want to go after it... do so... just don't go yet. Will you do that for me?"

She didn't know why he asked her to stay during a time when he wasn't home anyway, but, of course, she would grant his wish. After all she always did what he asked of her, one way or the other.

"I will, Mr Carson. I promise it."

**C&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&E**

So the family left for London and one day they returned like they did every year. And while the family danced, ate, and talked in London, Elsie stayed at Downton, doing what she always did. She took care of the house, made sure it was cleaned from the attic to the wine cellar and ready for its inhabitants once they got back.

The house was in perfect shape and she didn't just want it to be perfect for the family. She also wanted it to be perfect for him, because Downton was his home and she wanted him to feel welcome.

She had read Carson's letters that came as frequently as every year. He had written about the balls, the meetings, the visitors and everything else that happened, but, of course, never about himself. He had written about the decline of the season and how much it was changing. She knew he hated that his world was crumbling, but there was nothing to be done about it anyway. In her eyes change was good and inevitable, if one wanted to survive, while he believed the key to survival was to stand perfectly still, hoping life would spare him.

So she didn't know what he had done when he wasn't on duty. She didn't know, if he had gone out or had met friends or other women. All the other years she hadn't minded not to know, but this year it drove her crazy and she wished she had applied for this other job, had run for the hills, because that way she could forget. But, naturally, she was fooling herself by thinking it was that easy. She didn't believe it herself, no matter how often she told herself otherwise.

Her heart jumped with pain at the mere sight of him, when he finally stood next to her in the servants' hall. She had missed him so much during those long weeks, but now that he was back, it seemed she had gained nothing from it. She still ached, because he behaved as he did every year when he returned.

"Well, Mrs Hughes, I hope you had a good time," he said as they strolled down the downstairs hallway.

"I had, Mr Carson," she lied suavely. "So how's the family?"

"Everybody's very well. And how are you?"

"I'm fine," she said with a shrug and observed him carefully. His face gave nothing away. Mr Carson wore the same old mask he was always wearing. She couldn't tell if he had missed her. He always missed Downton, she knew that. He loved the house, a pile of bricks, but she never knew for sure, if he loved the people that gave to life to it the same way.

"Well then, let's go upstairs. They'll arrive in no time."

**~~tbc~~**


	7. Catharsis

**So, here we go with another chapter. I certainly hope, you'll like it! Thanks again to each and everyone who support me and takes their time to leave a comment. I really appreciate it! **

**And again, as always, I thank the woman who knows I'll probably never know where to put the adverbs ;-) **

**Chapter 7**

**Catharsis**

Carson counted the sins he had committed over the years as he counted the doors he locked every night. It had become a ritual for him at the end of every day. And like any ritual it was comforting like a warm embrace after a tiring day. Over the last few weeks he had started to recall his sins, and admitting them to himself was purifying and redeeming.

The evening when he had realized Mrs Hughes, Elsie, was about to go, to leave Downton, him, and everything else she knew, he had begun to understand. It was still a hard lesson, but he was slowly grasping it, grateful for the chance he considered his last one.

Sometimes one couldn't go back to normal, sometimes things inevitably changed and there was no turning back. Sometimes one had to go forward. A war couldn't teach him that lesson, but she had done so and it had happened without severe damage. Nobody died, no home was broken, no soul was wrecked. All it had cost him was a part of his imagination and a bit of his pride.

While he was away in London, he had hoped she would still be home, still looking over Downton, like she had done all these years. He had hoped to return to find her waiting for him. It had been essential to him that she did. What was the sense of coming back, when she wasn't there? But before she could know, before he could share that with her, he had to come clean. He had to face his sins for what they were and then he could move on.

As he strolled the endless corridors of the big, silent house, the keys in his big hands, he recalled his catharsis. The three tasks he had to accomplish before he could start over.

He had written her so many letters over the years, but he had only sent half of them to Downton. The others had been sealed and hidden in the drawer of his locked desk in his room in London. This summer he had taken them out and had reread them all. Each and every one spoke of the love he felt for her and of the sacrifices for the sake of their friendship and the lives they had chosen. He would give them to her soon, because in his opinion, he had lost the right to own them, once he had signed and sealed them. They belonged to her, no matter what she would do with them.

Then he had met with the head housemaid of Lady Rosamund Painswick's estate in London. She was a small, tiny person with dark brown hair and blue eyes and a witty Scottish tongue that made him smile every time he talked with her. She reminded him so much of Mrs Hughes that it hurt and comforted him at the same time when he was in London.

Of all his sins, Beth MacGregor – he still couldn't believe her Christian name was actually Elizabeth – was probably the biggest. She was the woman he had taken to bed when the loneliness and longing for Elsie Hughes had overtaken him. It had been a moment of incredible weakness in the summer after Mrs Hughes had received and declined a proposal from an old friend named Joe Burns. Carson gathered it was the farmer who had made him realize what he felt, because when this fellow had turned up he finally had to face how much he really cared for her. He couldn't deny his love for her any more. Thanks to Mr Burns, the red faced farmer with the tight suit, he had had to stop pretending.

A few months later he had met Beth and her resemblance to Mrs Hughes had taken his breath away. To say she had taken advantage of his state of mind would be too harsh, but in a way they had known from the first moment, that he wouldn't resist her. She was the braver person and had taken action, while he had struggled with his conscience and a strange sense of fidelity towards a woman who, so he had guessed, would never be his.

The first time when Beth had left his bed, he had been so overwhelmed with shame and guilt that he had asked her to marry him, but the woman had more common sense than he had. With a husky laugh and a loving kiss she had told him to save his proposal for the woman he really wanted.

Their arrangement was simple, but at times he was disgusted with himself. That was probably why it had hurt him so badly when he had found out about Mrs Hughes and Mr Lane. He knew the thing they had been living for so long, he knew it, and he hated it. It was abusive, painful, but at least some of their most primitive needs were met.

This summer in London, after ten years of sneaking around, he had ended it with a heavy heart and he could have sworn there had been tears in Beth's eyes. It had been a brief meeting on a chilly day near the River Thames and she had told him it was just the wind that caused her to blink, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had wronged in more ways than he could ever understand.

His last task had led him to a shop where he had bought a ring. It was a simple piece of jewellery made of gold. He had saved a[n] acceptable amount of money over the years and he had always dreamt of spending it on her, and now he had done so. The small parcel was hidden in his desk, carefully locked away so that no one but him could find it. It lay in there together with the letters. He had basically locked up his heart in there and he hoped she would take it. It was all he had to give.

**C&EC&EC&EC&EC&E**

He returned to his pantry and found Mrs Hughes waiting for him. She had prepared a kettle and sat in the same armchair as always. He was a bit taken aback by her presence, because they hadn't agreed on a date for tonight. He hesitated shortly before he stepped in and closed the door[,] even though the servants' hall was deserted at this time of night. He looked at his pocket watch. Almost midnight. Had he really spent so much time doing his tour of the house?

"I hope you don't mind," she said, as if she was reading his thoughts, "But I wanted to talk to you."

"I never mind your company or a good cup of tea, Mrs Hughes. I apologize, if I kept you waiting."

"Don't worry about that." She smiled nervously at him as he sat down. Silence fell over them while she poured his tea and added a bit of lemon and milk. Just as he liked it.

"What is it you want to talk about?" he asked, after he had taken the first sip.

"Do you remember our conversation before you left for London? You asked me to stay here in Downton while you were away."

"Of course, I remember it," he answered, a little short breathed. It was his first day back and she was already pushing the subject. He had hoped for a little more time, some days to re-adjust, but now that he took a closer look at her, he realized how uneasy she was. He noticed her hands were trembling despite being tightly folded in her lap and the skin on her neck was flushed.

"So, I did wait for you, even though I had made my decision. Let's face it, Mr Carson, I have to go."

Her words weighed heavily on his heart. For several moments he just looked at her, trying to decide how to proceed. If he didn't act now, he would lose her. Maybe he already had, because he had waited too long.

Carson put his cup aside and rose. With a deep breath he unlocked his desk and took out the neatly tied letters.

"Since when have you been working here?" he asked, his dark voice heavy with emotion as he stared at her name on the paper in his hands.

"Long enough," she said, avoiding a straight answer.

"Twenty years," he said and returned to his chair. "Twenty years, twenty seasons. I'm afraid that during all those years I've never sent you all the letters I've written to you and I apologize for that."

He handed her the letters and felt as if he was giving up control. Over his life, his heart. Once she had them, it was done and he was lost. Once she knew all the things he had never dared to tell her, his life was forfeit, should she not want to have him in. His love for her, his time with Beth, and his shameful past on the stage, Alice, Mr Grigg. It was all in those letters. Every secret, every emotion, every sin was saved between those pages.

"Read them before you go. I swear, it's the last thing I ask of you."

**C&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&E**

That night Elsie didn't find any sleep. She was wide awake, while her eyes absorbed every letter he had written over the years, and the longer she read, the more she clung to his words, as if her life depended on them. Months ago Mrs Patmore had told her Mr Carson wasn't exactly Lord Byron, but how wrong she was! With each letter Elsie unfolded, her heart opened more and more to him, something she hadn't thought was actually possible. He had written her long and beautiful letters and even if they were often filled with regret and in his view shameful admittances, but she couldn't help but to love him even more for them.

Torn between tears and smiles over his confessions, she sat on her bed, his letters, his love spread all around her. He had sinned as much as she had, had denied himself what he longed for, to replace it with something shameful. Beth, whoever she was... Elsie's chest burned with jealousy whenever her eyes stumbled upon her name, but she understood. Just as he understood (somehow) what she had shared with Mr Lane. It was just that it hurt so damn much to face it.

The sun was dawning over Downton and Elsie knew she had to get up. She had to leave her bed, which was covered with his love letters, because a new day demanded her attention. But she felt so secure, so comfortable here, now that she knew he really loved her and would forgive her anything, even the things she couldn't forgive herself.

Someone knocked at her door and disturbed her new peace, but the person didn't wait to be called in and just entered. There was no time to gather her letters and so Elsie just kept her breath, hoping it wouldn't be one of the noisy maids. To her surprise it was Mrs Patmore, still in her nightshirt and wrapped in a blanket.

"Good morning," she greeted Elsie, eyeing her from tip to toe. Elsie had never changed and had spent the whole night in her dress which was now a mess of wrinkles, while her eyes were puffy and red. The price one paid for staying awake all night long.

"Is something the matter?" Elsie asked worried. "It's not even 4.30."

"Oh no, don't worry," the cook answered, obviously uncertain about what to say. "It's just that something was keeping me up all night..."

"What is it?"

"You are not still mad with me, are you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"For everything that happened after you told me about you and Mr Lane... because I thought you needed to see..." she broke off.

"I don't understand what you mean, Mrs Patmore," Elsie said flatly.

"You know, I thought...," the cook still struggled for the right words. "You needed to realize what Mr Carson means to you... and I thought by making you jealous you would realize how much you really love him. I never meant to hurt you."

Elsie closed her eyes. Relief flooded her. Relief that brought new tears into her eyes.

"Can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Mrs Patmore," Elsie whispered. "It's all right."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am, Mrs Patmore. I am all right now. Would you leave me alone, please? I think I have to prepare myself. It's going to be a long day."

**~~tbc~~**


	8. To love a sinner

**So this is it. The last chapter of Sinning by Silence. I want to thank you all for reading, alerting and commenting on this puppy. I had great fun writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it. I also need to hug my favourite beta in the world for doing a fantastic job. Every mistake you may find in here is due to my account, not hers. **

**I'll admit that I'm not completely done with this, because Beth MacGregor has started talking to me, because she wants her story to be told. There's a lot to discover about her and our favourite butler. So maybe I'll get back to this sooner or later. **

**In the meantime enjoy yourselves and have a good life! **

**Chapter 8**

**To love a sinner**

Elsie managed to be in the servants' hall, before Mr Carson arrived there. She sneaked into his pantry and waited for him, her heart racing in her chest, without any idea how to tell him what she ached for him to know. She had tried to restore her worn out appearance with cold water and another dress, but everybody, who saw her, could tell she had spent a restless, sleepless night. She had made a girlish, silly attempt to look good for him and she wasn't at all sure she had succeeded in her effort. She had never been a vain person. She was a sensible, grounded woman, but knowing that he really loved her she craved to be a woman he could desire, not just love.

She checked the clock on the wall. He was a little late this morning and she feared her plan could fail, if the usual routine of their day was disturbed. Then she heard his steps, heavy and a little faster than usual. He came in and went straight to his desk, without looking around, because he was fixing his cuff link. The poor man... Did he ever appear before looking perfect, she wondered.

Carson startled, when the door shut behind him, and turned around. He didn't know what to say when he realized that Elsie had been hiding behind the door. He just held the damn cuff link in his hand. His valet had tried to fix it, but Carson had been so nervous that the young chap could do nothing right and had been sent away.

He hadn't slept a wink, had been haunted by horrible visions of her laughing about him while she was reading his letters, and now she stood in his room and stared at him, as if she had seen a ghost. What was she doing in here? Hiding behind his door? He was bewildered, couldn't think straight. God, he felt as if he was spending his time in a living hell.

"Mrs Hughes..."

"Can I help you?" she asked, stepping forward. He said nothing and she didn't wait for an answer or his permission. She just took his arm and the cuff link and helped him to dress for the day. It wasn't exactly proper for a housekeeper to dress the butler, but she had crossed so many unspoken lines over the years that she didn't care any more.

He watched her, rather speechless, and realized she hadn't been that close to him in months. Last night she had been shaking and nervous, but this morning she was calm. Her hands performed their task with incredible accuracy and he wished he knew whether this was a good sign.

"There you are," she said with a satisfied look on her face and released his arm. "Now you can face the day."

"I'm not so sure about that," he said and it was a confession he hadn't meant to make, but the words had just slipped his mouth.

"There's nothing to worry about, Mr Carson," she said, as if she had read his mind and rose to the balls of her feet. Her mouth placed a soft kiss on his cheek, but she didn't withdraw as quickly as she had planned. She leaned against him, gently caressing his face with the tip of her nose and inhaling his scent. She had never been the one to express her feelings with tender gestures. Even when she had given herself to Mr Lane he was usually the one who touched her with tender caresses while she was the one who longed for pure physical release.

He was surprised, even shocked by her move, but the longer he found her soft, and, compared to him, tiny body leaning against his, he felt a slow wave of relief and gratefulness rolling over him. His hand ran over the small of her back, stroking her.

"I'll see you later...?" he asked huskily and her reply was a soft nod. "Tonight?" he asked, and their eyes met as he looked down. She nodded again. It was a date.

Elsie sat at her desk and tried to write a letter to her sister. Or to name it, she pretended to write a letter, in case someone other than Mr Carson was coming in. She had done her best to avoid people for most of the day. Unusual for a social person like her, she had sought solitude and quiet, because she needed to understand everything that had happened to her lately. As beautiful and rewarding as it had been to know she was loved by the man she loved, she now felt terrified by the thought of it. Things were changing for both of them and she didn't know if she could handle it. She could handle her affair with Mr Lane. Lust, she had learnt, was easy to control, but love? A feeling so destructive and painful that it had almost driven her away wasn't so easy to live with.

**C&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&EC&E**

The clock at her wall stroke 11 o'clock and simultaneously he knocked at her door. He must have finished his round through the house. She smiled and when he entered she felt how her hand was gripping the armrest of her chair. She was nervous, so tensed at the sight of him that she wondered how she had survived the last 20 years in his presence. Ignorance was bliss. So much was true.

"Did you lock the house?" she asked, because she couldn't think of anything more intelligent to ask.

"Yes, I did."

He stood in the middle of her sitting room and it looked as if he couldn't decide what to do. This tall, wonderful man just didn't know how to behave around the woman he had confessed his love to.

So she rose, not sure, if her legs would actually carry her, and closed the distance between them. Mr Lane had once called her a brave Scot and maybe it was time she proved him right.

Elsie reached out to touch his cheek and caressed him tenderly. "We've given each other a rather bad time, haven't we?" she mused lowly. "I'm so sorry...," she started, but he shook his head, took her hand into his and kissed the palm of her hand.

"Don't."

She closed her eyes, surprised by the emotions that started dwelling in her. He was closer now, she felt the heat that radiated from his body and then he touched her face.

"I want more," Carson said lowly as his thumb caressed her chin.

"What do you mean?" she asked, as she trembled underneath his tender touch.

"I want more than he got..." She blushed when his hands closed around her waist and he pulled her closer. "I'll never be satisfied with some stolen moments in the wine cellar or the garage," he said and now his voice was darkened by desire. "I want you all for myself. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," she whispered, as he pulled her close to him. For a moment his lips rested on her forehead and she closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of his lips against her skin.

"If we do this...," he continued. "If we do this, then you're mine. You'll be my wife and wear my ring. We owe that to each other."

"I agree," she mumbled helplessly. His lips caressed her face, moving slowly down her cheeks, over her nose and then to her mouth.

"I love you," he said lowly.

"I love you, too...," she returned and leaned against him, her forehead resting against his chin. She had been waiting for this moment for 20 years and now she realized, it had been worth every second of it. Every word, every gesture they had exchanged had led them to this point in their lives.

"Did you love him?" he asked and added quickly. "I need to know... I need... I want to understand."

Maybe it was only fair, after she knew almost _everything _(she could really do without details) about him and Beth, she could tell him about Mr Lane.

"No," she admitted with a whisper. "Never. It was always you... and sometimes it felt that being close to him meant being close to you. I've desired him, I'll admit that, but it wasn't love."

She withdrew a bit so that she could look into his eyes. There was still a certain sadness in them, but there was also tenderness, love, and forgiveness.

"Come with me," he said and pulled her with him to her armchair. He settled down with her on his lap and held her close to him. For a long moment neither of them spoke and she was grateful for it, because this comfortable, loving silence was healing her wounded heart. All the years she had spent in some kind of weary, yet hopeful state had just come to an end. She had her man and she knew once he had made the decision to be with her, he wouldn't turn away from it. When he loved and admitted love, it was final. A sacred pact, a vow, he would never break.

But she knew there were a lot of things they had to talk about, so many things that needed to be said. And indeed after some time, he cleared his throat, kissed her temple, and slowly started to talk about the one thing that still caused his chest to tighten when he thought about it.

"Last year when you thought you were ill..."

"Yes?"

"You told him, but not me... you ran to him, but you refused to talk to me..."

She held her breath and a little afraid to see the pain displayed on his face, she just snuggled closer against him, hoping the physical contact could assure him of her love.

"How do you know that?"

"He told me the day I had this... heart attack."

"I was scared," she admitted. "I was scared of falling ill... of dying..., but I was even more scared of the idea that I could be ill in your eyes. I wanted you to see me as a woman, a real woman, not just as an invalid that was fading away. I wanted to be desired by you, not pitied."

"But still you told him," he repeated.

"I didn't want to tell him, but he noticed something was wrong with me and at some point I couldn't deny it any more. So I just told him."

They were walking on thin ice. She was aware of that and she desperately hoped, he would be satisfied with her answer. She didn't want to tell him the whole story of her breaking down in Mr Lane's arms while they had made love. It would only hurt him to know details and she had already bruised his heart more than enough.

"I wish you had told me. I wanted to be there for you, but you cocooned yourself."

"You see, you're not the only one who has troubles letting people in," she said and cupped his face in her hands. "It's who we are," she added with a loving smile.

"And who are we, Mrs Hughes?" he asked.

She shrugged, "Sinners, I'm afraid. Can you love a sinner, Mr Carson?"

They had sinned for so many years by denying their love or living it with the wrong people. They had sinned with their silence and now was the time to make it right.

He didn't need to answer her question. The answer was evident from the way he looked at her. He would always love her no matter what. No Mr Lane and no Beth MacGregor could change that.

Perhaps they were sinners, perhaps he couldn't marry her right away, perhaps the world would fall victim to another heartless, cruel war. Perhaps, perhaps...

Carson pulled her close and kissed her the way he had wanted to kiss her when she had first arrived at Donwton. She responded hungrily and they kissed until they were breathless, and her lips were swollen, and his collar felt too narrow.

"Can I love a sinner?" he mused, once they broke apart. "Heaven knows I do. I always will."

**~The End~**


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